Possession
by strangertrack
Summary: You are you and I am me. I'll bind you to me for all eternity. What if Belphegor wasn't the evil twin? Ba'al/Bel.


EDIT: Story now completely against canon since target 221+'s revelations.

**Possession  
**

On the day he was born, Ba'al wailed as if his heart was breaking until Belphegor was birthed exactly 7 minutes and 6 seconds later.

When the two newborn princes were laid side-by-side, Ba'al's cries subsided and he reached out for Bel, unusual red eyes studying the form before him. Bel briefly opened his eyes, sleepy green eyes reflecting his own mirror image before they shuttered closed again.

Physically identical, except for the color of their eyes, but the differences grew more prominent as the years passed by.

Ba'al was swathed in purple, the color of royalty, while Bel was clothed in black, as befitted his status as his brother's shadow. Ba'al thrived in sports and his body grew strong and tanned, while Bel grew thin and pale as he ghosted lethargically after his more athletic brother.

Ba'al was the natural born leader, the driver, the creator. Fueled with the sense of entitlement that only the privileged from birth have, he had grand aspirations for his future kingdom, had visions of being powerful and in charge. Bel lacked the ambition, was satisfied to let the world go on as it was.

Their differences did not matter to them. They were brothers, _twins_, fates inescapably entwined.

xxxxx

"Let's play a game, Bel." Ba'al's voice is commanding and sure, as befits the Crown Prince.

"Okay, Ba'al," Bel replies, his voice more childlike and languid.

"Hide-and-seek~" When the two speak in unison, their voices blend into a splendid sing-song of melody.

Bel is always the hider. He likes to curl up in a dark, confined space, assured that Ba'al is looking for him, that he's always forefront in his brother's mind. He contorts his little body into a toy chest in their room and lies down in the darkness to wait.

It doesn't take long. It never does. The lid lifts and Bel blinks because the brightness behind his brother's form hurts his eyes.

"You found me," he says as he climbs out, pleased.

"I'll always find you, no matter how far you run or how well you hide."

Then there's a dull sensation of pressure and a strange wetness and Bel looks down at his left pinky to see that it's bleeding. It doesn't hurt though.

"We were connected since birth, you and I," Ba'al whispers and the pressure is back again and his finger is oozing blood. The blood runs down his finger and drips red along the thin, previously invisible wire that runs from him to his brother.

Ba'al laps the blood around Bel's finger, ravenous tongue navigating around the sharp, unyielding wire, and Bel thinks that he must taste amazingly good, that he wants to take his treasured knives and cut Ba'al up so that he can taste for himself.

But his knives are under his pillow, several meters away, so Bel does nothing but watch his brother lick up the last of the blood.

"I love you, Bel, like I love myself. Do you love me?" Ba'al's red eyes glitter strangely hypnotic.

Bel grins and nods.

Ba'al's smile is rueful and almost apologetic as he threads his right hand with Bel's left, the wire connecting them pressed between their palms, mapping the skin with new lines.

"Ah, but I love you more, dearest brother. I miss you every moment of the day, even when you're right in front of me. It's like I'm missing a vital part of myself. You fill me with hunger, with insatiably greed. I love you so much, I want to possess all of you. I want to rip your flesh and devour you, so that I can feel you inside me, so that you're a part of me."

"I feel the same way."

"Really, truly?"

"Yes." Bel bares his teeth and licks his lips. "I want to eat brother up and feel his flesh inside me."

Ba'al throws back his head and laughs.

xxxxx

The Queen stumbles upon the horrifying scene and comprehension eludes her. The room is dark but there's the unmistakable stench of fresh blood, and soft moaning and shallow thrashing coming from her younger son's bed.

"Ba'al! Bel!"

The wires criss-crossing the bedroom entrance slash into her body and the Queen cries out. But still, she ignores the pain and tries to move forward, struggling like a helpless butterfly caught in a deadly spider web.

She freezes when one form rises from the bed - too small to be an assassin - and turns slowly to face her. She can barely make out the features: blond hair dark and matted, face-splitting grin consumed with mania, and unmistakable red eyes feral and hungry.

_NONONONONONO!_

Ba'al jumps off the bed and gives chase, retracting his wires with remarkable dexterity to allow his safe passage.

Bel lies like a limp rag doll in the bed, clothes torn and trussed up in the wires that his brother has so tenderly tied him down with.

He hears their mother screaming down the hallway, and his brother's gleeful laughter, "Uhahahahahahahah!" and it's the fuse that sets him off. Bel cannot help the mad giggles that burble up in his throat and joins in the cacophonous harmony.

"Shishishishishi."

He hears more voices, shouting in panic, and he strains against the wires cutting into his wrists and ankles. He bleeds and he hurts, but he cannot break free from his brother's restraints.

The voices fall silent, one after another, and finally Ba'al limps back, a slight figure coated with blood and gore illuminated in the doorway, the queen's lopped head dangling from one hand by a long hank of hair.

Ba'al's grin is wider than ever as he steps in, setting the dripping head beside Bel and turning it so that it could watch, terrified expression permanently etched into the delicate features.

"Sorry, Bel, I borrowed your knives."

Ba'al wipes the blade and shows it to Bel. He sees his own reflection on his side, knows that Bel sees the same image on his.

"What's mine is yours, brother," Bel sing-songs, and darts his tongue out, drags it across the cold, metallic surface, and tastes the coppery traces of blood and bits of flesh caught in the serrated edges.

Ba'al moves the knife to accommodate his dear brother, his missing half, and doesn't protest when Bel licks his way to the handle and bites at his fingers, hard enough to break skin.

He thinks he would like to stay like this forever, in the dark womb of their room, just the two of them, their warm bodies pressed together where he is straddling Bel, his fingers in Bel's mouth, seeing, hearing, feeling nothing but each other. But finally, reluctantly, he pulls away, and with two quick slashes, frees his brother's arms.

"Reinforcements will be here soon, Bel. They're going to try to separate us."

Ba'al presses a gun in Bel's hands, barrel pointed at his own heart.

"I can't live without you. I want to be one with you forever. Do you want to be with me?"

Bel grins and gives his answer: he pulls the trigger.

"Bai bi, Ba'al. Daisuki~" he cooes as he commits the moment to memory, body heavy against him, life flowing out of the wound and onto him like a warm bath, the thick scent of their royal blood all around them, the delicious taste still on his tongue, his brother's beautiful face finally at peace as he takes his last ragged breath.

xxxxx

The crown keeps slipping on his head. It's the queen's, a small, delicate circlet of silver, not the heavy, ornate gold crown of the king's. But it's still too big for a little prince, now infamously known as Prince the Ripper.

The wind whips through his growing bangs, and for a split second, his right eye seems to glow red before it's hidden again beneath the fringe of hair.

_Hey, Ba'al. Where are we headed?_

_To Italy... to join the assassin group, Varia._

_Uwa~ Italy? That's far. That's where the Estraneo family lives, right?_

Bel feels Ba'al nod, a reassuring flood of warmth in his head.

_I've heard of their possession bullet. But str~a~nge~, I thought you had to shoot it into the brain for it to work._

There is utter silence and Bel's fingers twitch around his knives. He feels the unfamiliar sensation of anxiety, of_ loneliness_, and thinks that maybe he's been abandoned.

_Uhahahaha. You should know better, Bel. Those restrictions don't apply to us._

"Ouji dakara!"

xxxxx

**The End.**

xxxxx

Last line in Japanese because English would have muddied it up with the pronoun and plural form.

xxxxx

November 10, 2008


End file.
